


Thranduil and Legolas: Stories of the Past

by Suzume_Suzuki



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7216369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume_Suzuki/pseuds/Suzume_Suzuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short stories about moments between Thranduil and Legolas, starting from when Legolas was a child. Father and son moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Story One: Life Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my early fics. Hope you enjoy!

"Father, father!"

Thranduil looked down from his perch on the window sill to see his little son run to him with short stubby legs. He smiled, opened his arms and scooped the boy up with strong yet gentle hands.

"Legolas, what is it?" Thranduil asked, his lips curling in a smile.

His son giggled as he brought forward a fisted hand. He opened them and exposed the somewhat squashed butterfly on his palm. Its pale white fragile wing was slightly bent and wrinkled. Thranduil pursed his lips and frowned.

"Legolas, you must not kill an innocent being. This butterfly is delicate and has not caused harm in any way. Instead, it pollinates our flowers and plants and lets us admire its beauty," said he with a grim mouth. His son appeared crestfallen but he understood.

Gently, Thranduil placed his son back on the floor and feeling a bit sorry for reproaching him, said "Come, son. Let me show you the beauty of the innocent."

He gathered the injured butterfly from Legolas's hand with great care and touching its wing with a finger tip, let Legolas see the magic and wonders of healing. Slowly, the wing unfurled itself, like a flower blooming. It continued to unfurl until the butterfly shook it with some fervor, testing to see how it worked.

Thranduil brought it over the ledge of the window and beckoned Legolas to come see.

"Watch, my son," He whispered with sparkling eyes. He thrust his hand outwards up to the air.

Satisfied, the butterfly walked forward and gently, fluttered off from Thranduil's palm. The morning light shone through its pale wings, making them appear translucent. Legolas breathed with amazement, watching wide-eyed at the sight. Then, the butterfly was gone, fluttering off away through the sky.

Thranduil glanced down at his son and chuckled at his bewildered expression. "Today, you have learned something, Legolas. Let this not be your last lesson; you will have much more to learn from this day on."

At this, Legolas finally wrenched his gaze away, turned to his father, and asked, "Father, will I be able to see the world?"

Thranduil lovingly tousled his head and rumbled "Maybe, son. The world is vast, a lot bigger than you think. After all, the sky must stretch across it and even we the elves cannot see the end of the sky. But maybe, one day, you will travel around the world. That day, you would no longer be my little boy."

Suddenly, Legolas was tired and wrapped his small arms around his father's legs. His eyes began to droop down with fatigue. They struggled to stay open. He yawned as Thranduil picked him up again and swung him onto his shoulder. Presently, Legolas fell fast asleep, his breath rolling gently off against Thranduil's neck and his chest rising and sinking with rhythm. As softly as he could, as not to disturb him, Thranduil carried his sleeping son to his room, set him to bed, and kissed his forehead.

He turned back at the doorway, murmuring "Sleep well, my little son. May the stars watch over you and their light shine your path."

And then, with a whisk, Thranduil disappeared from the doorway. Only the scattering of leaves left a clue to the Elven king's presence.


	2. Story Two: Archery Practice

_Schwooop!_

Fast like lightning, the arrow hit the target, but not where it was intended. Legolas sighed dejectedly as he put down his arm and bow. Several arrows littered around the target, failures.

The boy sat down on a tree stump, resting under the shade of a tree and fingered his bow that he received as a birthday gift from his father, the Elven king of Mirkwood. "Treat it well, my son," His father had told him.

But how did his father expect him not to have a dangerous urge to snap it in half since it appeared not to work and all the arrows never hit the bull's eye?

"Why can everyone else shoot an arrow but not I?" he muttered.

"Because of practice," a voice said simply from somewhere behind. Legolas whirled around.

The Elven king stood behind the tree, tall and stately with an air of dignity, his hands clasped behind his back. In the forest, where the golden and amber leaves formed a bed of foliage on the forest floor, Thranduil looked regal and appeared to shine with light from above. He stepped closer to his son and bent down to eye level.

"We are not born perfect archers, though we have more grace and accuracy than those of human and, and dw-dwarf archers," Thranduil said wisely, shuddering at the word "dwarf." He despised dwarves with an unrivaled hate and fury and disgust.

Legolas looked down at his bow again. It was a lovely bow, made of a light and supple wood that was gilded with beautiful designs. He was having doubts so he asked, "Father, are you sure it's not the bow that's not working?"

He learned quickly it was not a good question to ask, for his father's nose flared and his eyes flashed. "Son, do not shift the blame to the mechanisms of your weapon. It must be you, and you will practice and become a fine archer." Legolas stared down in shame, his pride slightly pricked. Thranduil noticed this, immediately sorry for lighting up on his son so quick, added softly, "But do not fret. You have plenty of the world's time to practice, hone, and perfect your skills. I believe in you, son."

The Elven king took Legolas's bow and turning around to the target, aimed, and quickly released an arrow, letting it fly straight into the bull's eye with a loud _thunk_. Legolas felt slightly envious of his father's amazingly superior abilities. But of course, it was expected of the king. Legolas only wanted to live up to his role as the son of the king, the prince. But even the commoners' sons could shoot better than him and he had been embarrassed when a young elf remarked that the prince could not even hit the ring around the bull's eye.

Thranduil turned back to Legolas, who had remained silent.

"Son, if I can shoot a bull's eye, I know you can too. You won't be perfect in one day but you can reach my level, maybe even better."

He handed the bow back to Legolas and patted his head affectionately. Then, he looked past and sighed, "I must go now, son. My council comes and waits for me, and I have much to do today."

Legolas turned to see several elf officials waiting patiently for the king.

The Elven king's hand left his son's head and he walked slowly to join them. Legolas watched his father go, his hands gripping ever tighter on his bow. He did not want to disappoint his father nor himself. Once again, he found himself picking up an arrow and nocking it on his bow. Then, with a deep breath, aimed and fired.

_Twang!_

The arrow landed and though it missed the bull's eye, it was closer than it had ever been.


	3. Story Three: The Fruits of Labor

Thranduil roamed slowly and quietly through the majestic halls of his resplendent castle. Not even the tap of his footsteps could be heard. The Elven king needed some peace and quiet to calm the churning thoughts in his mind. There had been orc incursions near the Mirkwood borders, each time increasing in number and he was worried. Just then, the sound of metal clanging on metal was heard and Thranduil glanced out the tall glass windows.

His son, Legolas, was sparring with another elf, one of the soldiers no doubt. Plastered on his face was grim determination. Though Legolas preferred to use his bow as his weapon, learning the sword was important in case of close combat. He used dual knives with deadly speed, each time perfectly parrying the blows of his opponent.

Thranduil, seeing this duel as sort of intriguing, sat on the window ledge and watched his son switch to the offensive. A small crowd sitting around them watched too.

"Ha!" Legolas growled as he expertly maneuvered a feint before swinging his knives around and landing a blow. The opponent staggered and cried out in pain. Then, with a sharp twist, Legolas knocked the sword out of his hands. It dropped to the ground with a resounding _clang_.

An elf stood up from among the crowd and clapped. Legolas smiled and thanked him, and turned back to his opponent on the floor. He bowed and thanked the elf for sparring with him. The Prince of the Woodland Realm reached out a hand and the opponent grabbed it appreciatively. The other elves began to clap, praising them both.

Thranduil curled his lips into a thoughtful smile, musing that his son's swordsmanship was much better than he had thought. It had been a long time since he had spent time with him, being very busy, especially recently. The Elven king desired to see his son later, and soon resumed his path of roaming the castle halls.

Legolas sighed in fatigue, washing his face with cold, refreshing water. He peeled his light armor off and changed into a feathery and airy tunic. He proceeded to join his father for dinner, at the Elven king's request (a word from a messenger).

"Legolas, my son, welcome and sit," said Thranduil, waving his hands in the air with a flourish, when Legolas opened the enormous oak doors of the banquet hall and peered inside.

Legolas padded to a seat from all the way across his father and was about to sit down when his father said, "Come sit closer." With a sigh, he obeyed.

Thranduil sighed as well, for it felt awkward for father and son to be together after a long time. Not only that, the Prince was older now and wished to spend more time with his friends instead of his "eccentric old man."

"I watched your sparring earlier this afternoon. It was splendid. You make me proud, Legolas," Thranduil complimented in between bites.

Legolas's ears pinked at his father's approval. So rarely had he been praised by the Elven king, who was always occupied with loads of work. The king had to sign documents, protect the citizens, and ensure the peace in the realm was kept. "Thank you, father," He murmured at last, picking at his dinner and then stabbing at a piece of roasted meat and nibbling on it.

There was moment of delicate silence as the father and son chewed on their food. At last, breaking the silence, Thranduil casually asked, "Do you wish to join the border patrols?"

In response, Legolas jerked up his head to stare in wonder at the Elven king, open-mouthed. Since forever, the Prince hoped one day to be part of a patrol or regiment but the couple times he had talked with his father ended in refusals, with reasons that the Prince was too young. _Too young!_ Legolas had thought with irritation, _I'm no longer a child!_

"I see you would very much like it. Hmm…very well, I will assign you to one of them. If you work hard enough, you may see the fruits of your labor, and this I've seen and have duly rewarded."

The Prince thanked him, brimming with excitement at the prospect of finally becoming a soldier and being with them. He had long tired of simply hunting and walking around in the forest he knew so well that he could close his eyes and find his way around.

For the rest of the evening, the Elven king and his son chatted, with stories of old times and news of the going-ons in the castle exchanged. Thranduil raised his goblet in toast and Legolas clinked his goblet against his. Father and son acted as if they had never spent time apart, and as if they had all the time in the world to be in each other's company.

Today passed and tomorrow would be another day.


	4. Story Four: First Battle

Legolas grappled with his heavy armor as he slipped it on. His heart constricted and he felt his stomach tighten with excitement and anxiety. This was his first battle, after months of rigorous training and preparing.

"Hey, got your armor on?" his captain asked gruffly. Legolas nodded tersely, fingering his bow as he got up from the floor. "Well, let's head on out, boys."

Captain Brëzen grabbed his long sword and shuffled out, his squadron following behind him. Many faces were grim, excited, or anxious. Legolas bumped into an older elf, who glared but ignored him. Even the Prince was not treated specially for the oncoming battle. His rank was relatively low, but Legolas worried not for he promised to his father he would work hard to get promoted.

Ahead, Legolas could make out with his elven eyes a contingent of orcs, wielding their large, bulky weapons with deadly malice. Unfortunately, Legolas would not take part in close combat but instead was tasked with shooting down the enemy.

Captain Brëzen patted his shoulder and reassured him that everything would be alright. "You'll be fine, Legolas. I trust in you. Now shoot down those orcs. You are a warrior."

Adrenaline coursed through him as Legolas took his place hidden up in the trees of Mirkwood. Then, a war horn was blown and the sound echoed throughout the silent forest. Nothing stirred.

Then, with a mighty roar, the elves and the orcs clashed, swords clashing on swords and arrows soaring through the air like birds. Over and over, like he was a programmed robot, Legolas strung his bow, nocked an arrow, and shot the incoming enemies. And over and over, orcs fell to the ground, as if a giant had stepped on them. Arrows covered their bodies.

Blooded seeped into the earth, and Legolas couldn't help feeling a bit squeamish and sick. But he hardened his heart, repeating in his head that he was protecting his people.

Suddenly, there was a bone-chilling wail filled with anguish and with unbelieving eyes, he saw his captain fall. Captain Brëzen fell. His mentor, his leader, and his comrade fell.

Rage consumed the hearts of the elves and they fought even harder, renewed with vengeance for their fallen comrade. Legolas was frozen still, shocked with the death of his captain. His stomach was a cold pit and his muscles refused to move, his mind replaying what he had just witnessed. With a final scream of anger and sorrow, he nocked his arrow and rained down arrow upon arrow on the battlefield.

The battle was over quickly, the victory belonging to the elves but Legolas could not feel even a drop of exalting joy for winning. He sat down numbly on the castle steps away from the festivities of a battle won, holding his head in his arms.

Legolas had watched the other elves carefully carry Captain Brëzen back to prepare his funeral. His captain's eyes had been closed and his face tranquil and peaceful, but his clothes and armor stained with blood. Legolas had turned his head away. Now here he was, feeling the full impact of sadness, horror, anguish and anger all mixed together. Captain Brëzen was the substitute of his father whenever Thranduil was absent. He felt completely hollow inside.

A gentle warm hand patted his head and he looked up. It was Thranduil, his face sad and mournful. "My son, you have done well."

Legolas did not reply and the Elven king did not say anything either. They stayed that way for a long time, thinking deeply of today's events.

"I thought we were invincible, that none of us would fall," Legolas choked up eventually.

Thranduil answered, "No, Legolas. It is not that way. Even the elves die in battle, fighting to protect. Do not be sad forever. I know Captain Brëzen was important to you but his death is one of many that will happen in the future. We must continue on, carrying on our duties but always remembering."

Legolas's eyes began tearing up and his father murmured, "Go ahead and cry. It is not shameful. Cry your beautiful tears for those you care about."

Legolas sobbed while his father comforted him, a hand resting on his shoulder as the Elven king looked on, years of sorrow and sadness and knowing in that gaze.


	5. Story Five: Love Sickness

The female elf paused by the clearing, listening to the sounds of the forest as the gentle breeze kissed her hair and skirt. She heard a soft rustle, a sound so quiet only the ears of an elf could've detected it. She sighed in annoyance.

"Legolas, what is it that you want?"

Legolas hopped out of nearby tree and landed nimbly beside her, grinning. "Aeardes, hello. It's a fine spring day, is it not?"

She muttered something like he was ruining her day but she answered politely "Yes, it is. What brings you here?"

Legolas shuffled his feet, glanced at the ground, then glanced back up. "Would you like to join me in a walk?" He blushed a little, and Aeardes could see this.

She chuckled, declined, her reason that she had much to do today. "I have to cook the food, mend some clothes, and go hunting."

Seizing a chance, Legolas offered to be her hunting partner but she declined again with some laughter, a beautiful, melodious laugh that tinkled in Legolas's ears. Her reason this time was that she had promised to go hunting with a friend. Legolas could only wish her good hunting and bid farewell.

He was frustrated. Why did Aeardes continuously reject his advances? He was obviously in love with her, but she seemed to refuse him simply to spite and embarrass him. Legolas wandered slowly through the forest as he thought before eventually winding back to the castle.

The Elven king was finally free of his duties for today and decided to spend his free time wisely. The first thought was to visit his son. He peeked into his room but no Legolas. He peered through the training room while being greeted respectfully by servants and other elves, but still no Legolas. Well that was odd, Thranduil thought, wondering where in the world he could be.

It was only upon chance when he was strolling through the gardens that Thranduil came upon his son at last. But the queerest look was on Legolas's face, somewhat familiar. What could it be?

When the Elven king stepped closer, Legolas lifted his head up at his footsteps. His eyes showed a strange emotion and instantly, the king could see what was the problem. He chuckled a deep laugh and settled down beside Legolas, who glared at his father, wondering whatever could be so funny.

"I do not laugh at you personally, my son," Thranduil said smiling, "It is just I know that look on your face. It is the symptom of love sickeness. Now tell me son, what are the details to this?"

Legolas blushed while he mumbled, "There is an elf that I like, but I don't understand. Why does she keep rebuffing my advances? I'm only trying to be nice to her, but she treats me like I am a joke. Besides, I am the Prince, why wouldn't she like me? Father, why are females so difficult to understand?"

Thranduil could only agree so well but at least he had experience in dealing with this. "Females are more sensitive. She might not like you, even if you are our Prince, my prince. Do not thrust yourself upon her; of course she'll dislike you. Take your time and maybe in time, she'll come to like you."

Legolas stared at his father, wondering how he knew all these things. His father seemed to have an answer for everything. Thranduil seemed to notice this, because he added, "I know this because of your mother."

The Elven king's eyes had softened and Legolas couldn't help but feel jealous that his father had found a soul mate who reciprocated her feelings.

"Ah, but your mother has long been dead and I miss her so. I think she would've been very proud of you, Legolas."

Legolas glanced at the floor again. He watched an ant crawl over his shoes and disappear into a crack.

Thranduil rose, sweeping his long robes. He turned to leave, but wanted to add one more thing.

"When choosing a mate, you must choose carefully with much deliberation. Do not disappoint me, son."

Thranduil left his son to ponder thoughtfully at his words.


	6. Story Six: A Good Friend

Legolas could hear the soft crunch of boots stepping on leaves. However, they were louder and harder, not at all like the soft, graceful steps of an elf. They were the footsteps of an unknown person and an intruder.

Legolas heard the footsteps approach while he listened from his concealed position above in the trees. His bow drawn, he shouted, "Who goes there?"

The footsteps stopped immediately in its tracks. An answer arrived. "A friend of the elves."

Legolas hopped down from the branch and held a knife to the man's neck, a human male (and to be honest, he kind of reeked of sweat). Legolas narrowed his eyes and asked in a deadly whisper, "Who are you? State your name."

The man looked nonplussed and replied calmly, "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, leader of the Rangers and Chief of the Dúnedain."

Legolas knew who this man was, after hearing about him from his father, and lowered his knife. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Aragorn son of Arathorn. I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, King of the Mirkwood elves. Welcome to Mirkwood." He bowed politely, albeit stiffly. He didn't like to be the inferior one to anyone but his father but this was Aragorn, who had rattled off some pretty titles.

Aragorn smiled, saying good-naturedly that he too, was honored to make the acquaintance with the Prince of Mirkwood.

Together, they traveled to the castle. Along the way, the talked a little about Aragorn's adventures and Legolas couldn't help but wonder what else was there besides Mirkwood. What else was out there?

They arrived and Legolas told Aragorn to wait a bit and went inside the gates. He entered the throne room and alerted his father, "Aragorn has arrived. I met him near our borders."

Thranduil stared down at his son. Those two have already met? He thought, amused. "Let him in."

Aragorn was permitted to enter and paid his respects to the Elven king. Then, bringing out a large tied bag, he said, "I bring you, um, Gollum. Gandalf requested of me to capture him and bring him here to the halls of Mirkwood."

There was a scuffling sound and angry noises. Sighing, as if he had done this a hundred times but hated it each time, Aragorn untied the bag, reached inside, and grabbed the hideous creature. Legolas wanted to puke.

"Preciousss, my preciousss! Where is my preciousss?!" Gollum spat, spittle flying everywhere, despite hanging upside down by the feet. Aragorn held him farther away, a disgusted look on his face.

Thranduil appeared disgusted as well, but managed to order to have "that revolting monster" placed in one of the jail cells.

With that, Aragorn's job was finished, but he decided to stay a few days in Mirkwood (because, why not?). Legolas turned to his father when Aragorn was gone and asked, "Tell me, father, is this man a good man?"

Thranduil stared intently at Legolas and realized with a jolt that he was no longer a child but really, a man. He no longer had that baby fat or that child-like clumsiness and body shape; no, Legolas was grown, tall, and had litheness to his body. Inwardly, he sighed and smiled, happy to see his son grow up into such a fine, young elf.

"Yes, I know a good man when I see one. It would be nice if you two became friends. Aragorn is a faithful friend who treasures family and friends above all."

Legolas nodded, feeling a little bit embarrassed after threatening Aragorn like that, especially one who was to become king. He left his father and headed off in search of Aragorn, hoping to see if he would take some of his time to go hunting with him later. A friendship with Aragorn would be very much valued indeed.


	7. Story Seven: Mission

Gandalf had arrived and left after interrogating Gollum, and that was about the most news that occurred in the Mirkwood Realm. It had been relatively peaceful and Thranduil dozed off on his throne, dreaming of the past. His son was grown up and he wondered if Legolas's mother was watching over him when his son came bursting in to the throne room with a terrified prison guard.

Instantly, the prison guard threw himself at the somewhat surprised Elven king's feet, crying, "Please forgive me, your highness! I let that horrible little creature escape from one of the cells! Please, I beg mercy!"

Legolas appeared disgusted but he knelt down and said in a deadly serious tone, "Father, I am sorry to disappoint you. Gollum managed to escape and we must immediately begin searching. He could not have gone far."

Thranduil groaned but ordered for a patrol to hunt down the escapee. The elves hurriedly sprinted off. Thranduil then ordered the useless prison guard to go find something useful to do, warning him that he had better start taking his job seriously. When the guard disappeared from sight, Thranduil faced his son, who stared up at him questioningly, as if waiting for his command.

"Should we not report this to Gandalf?" Legolas asked.

"I suppose so. Cíldir, please retrieve for me an ink brush and formal paper," Thranduil called, waving at a nearby elf. The elf nodded respectfully and went off to perform his duty. Thranduil turned back to Legolas, remarking, "This is tiring, you know."

Legolas was about to say something when he was interrupted by the speedy arrival of Cíldir, carrying exactly what was asked of him. Thranduil took them and carefully composed a sorry letter to Gandalf for letting Gollum escape. Not that he really cared much but he had a feeling it was a good idea to let Gandalf know. After all, the old wizard had spent hours trying to wrest information from the "small vile animal."

"Should I send forth a messenger?" Legolas inquired as his father meticulously lettered his words. The Elven king looked up past him and Legolas turned his head. A messenger for them had arrived.

"Let me see," Thranduil said, opening the letter precisely so that it wasn't ripped jaggedly. Legolas rolled his eyes mentally; his father had to be perfect with everything to the point that Legolas couldn't help but hope he didn't inherit this annoying habit. Legolas could only recall moments when he disturbed his father's things. "No, put that goblet back. It belongs in that exact spot." "Don't touch that! You messed the papers up! They must be neatly stacked, perfectly so not one page sticks out." "Leave my pillow alone! Yes, it is mine because technically what is yours is also mine. You're my son! Stop sitting on it!"

Thranduil scanned the contents of the newly obtained letter. His brows furrowed and his lips puckered. Legolas was curious.

"What is it, father?"

Thranduil tossed aside the letter and Cíldir rushed forward to catch it before it fell to the ground. Thranduil "hmphed" and said to his son, "I have a mission for you. Please travel to Rivendell with my report. I'd like you to go there as our representative."

Legolas was slightly bewildered. He hadn't travelled much, only carrying out some smaller errands his father had ordered. But Rivendell was rather far away and his father tended not to send him on urgent errands. "Um, okay. I understand, father."

Thranduil smiled as he handed Legolas the report. "I know that this letter will be safe in your hands. You are my son and you have proven yourself very worthy so far. Now go prepare and meet me in front of the gates so I can see you off."

Quickly, Legolas bounded away, holding the letter so it wouldn't get crushed. Shortly, he got all the things he needed packed, not forgetting his bow or his dual knives. He hid the knives in his garment and headed over to the gate of the castle.

As promised, Thranduil was waiting for him. Legolas shouldered his pack full of nifty things, food, and whatever else he had decided to bring as he walked closer.

When Legolas stood right in front of his father, Thranduil realized that his son was almost as tall as him. Their eyes practically met eye to eye. He felt nostalgic and extremely old (though elves lived for a very long time, he felt as old as the oldest elf). The Elven king placed his hand on Legolas's shoulder, not knowing what to say before his departure.

He finally managed to say, with a few tears welling in his eyes, "Good luck, Legolas, my son, and travel safely. May the stars watch over you and shine on your path."

Legolas grinned, feeling excited but a little remorseful for leaving his home and father for a long time. "You too, father. Stay well while I'm gone."

Thranduil nodded slowly. It was time to leave. "I'll miss you, my son. Come back home safe and sound," Thranduil said.

Legolas nodded tersely and quickly left, embarking on his long journey. Thranduil watched for a long time until Legolas was just a teeny tiny speck that at last, disappeared. The Elven king sighed with a strange feeling that he would not see his son in a long while.


	8. Story Eight: Return

Many months had passed since Legolas's departure and Mirkwood had gone through a recent ordeal. Sauron's minions were thwarted and Sauron himself was vanquished when a certain hobbit named Frodo Baggins had cast the One Ring into Mount Doom (though technically, Gollum had stolen the ring and fell into the churning magma with it). Peace was restored once again throughout Middle Earth.

Thranduil glanced down at the newest request and sighed. He thought of his wife but most especially, his son. About a month ago, he had received a letter from Legolas, with events such as Aragon's coronation as High King of the Reunited Kingdom (Arnor and Gondor) and the grand celebration that followed enclosed. Also, curiously, Legolas had added that he had made a friend within the Fellowship of the Ring whom he'd like Thranduil to meet.

Unfortunately, Legolas also stated that while returning home, he and his new friend would be taking some detours along the way, to visit Fangorn Forest and the Glittering Caves in Helms Deep.

Thranduil didn't like to be kept waiting. After all, it was his one and only son. But each day, the Elvenking would pray that Legolas would come home safe and sound, ever since his son had left Mirkwood. When he did finally come home, Legolas and his friend would be treated as heroes.

Suddenly, Cíldir came bursting through the door and gasped, "The Prince has returned!"

Instantaneously, Thranduil stood up, gripping the throne's arms tightly in anticipation. Hurrahs were heard, each time louder and closer to the throne room. At last, a familiar face appeared at the enormous doors.

"Father, I have returned."

Thranduil rushed forward to hug his son, though it was somewhat awkward. Legolas laughed and patted his old man's back.

The Elven king's face was shining as he beamed at his son. "Welcome home, son. I've missed you," Thranduil rumbled, clasping his hands over his son's. A bit of red-orange appeared in his peripheral vision. He glanced down and almost shrieked.

It was a short, stocky dwarf. A dwarf.

"Um, why is there a dwarf in my halls, in the throne room?" Thranduil asked, narrowing his eyes at the newcomer.

Legolas grinned down at his companion and said to Thranduil, "This is the good friend I was speaking about in my letter."

The dwarf looked up, gave a smile but it looked more like a grimace, and said gruffly, "Greetings, your highness. I am Gimli son of Glóin."

Thranduil felt like dramatically fainting but he composed himself and managed to say, "Um, welcome to Mirkwood, Gimli son of Glóin. Legolas can show you around, can't he?"

Legolas nodded and the best friends left the bewildered Elven king sitting on his throne.

Thranduil shook his head, hoping to clear his mind and tell himself his eyes were not playing tricks on him. It was ineffective. "Cíldir! A wet cloth please! Now!" He moaned. Cíldir scurried off in search of a wet cloth.

Putting a hand over his forehead, Thranduil said out loud, "A dwarf! Oh lord, who would've thought a dwarf? My mortal enemy?"

His thoughts drifted off to a specific group of dwarves that had come bumbling straight into a campfire in Mirkwood long ago. And apparently one hobbit.

Oh well, I'll guess I'll let it go this time. Maybe dwarves aren't as bad as they used to be, Thranduil thought as he closed his eyes, glad that his son was at last home. Nothing could shadow that.


	9. Story Nine: A Confrontation

"Father! Listen to me!"

Thranduil wanted to cast himself into a place of oblivion, where there was him and only him. He wanted to drown out all the other noises. He felt like his being was splitting in half like a fissure.

Legolas had come to him early in the morning, years after he had returned Mirkwood and Sauron was defeated, to speak with him. Thranduil had let him into his room, surprised by the visit and asked what it was his son wished to talk about.

Legolas did not immediately reply; instead, he sauntered over to the window and looked out. He fingered the crimson velvet curtains, then spun around to face Thranduil. He appeared nervous, his words teetering precariously at the tip of his tongue.

Legolas took a deep breath and gazed at his father squarely in the eye. "I've been thinking, at least Gimli and I both have…we're planning on leaving Middle-Earth and sailing over to the Undying Lands."

His words almost gave the Elven king a heart attack. He remained speechless and motionless for a long time, trying extremely hard to process the information and not fully comprehending that Legolas was dead serious. He had stood up waveringly, asking softly, "You can't be serious."

Legolas's eyes grew darker, his mouth transformed into a frown, and his eyebrows knitted together. "I _am_ serious," He said in a tone with a hint of stubbornness.

Thranduil was very perturbed. He could not fathom his son going off on his own (ok, maybe with his best friend who turned out to be a dwarf, of all things) and never, ever, returning to him ever, (maybe add one more ever), again. This kind of thought Thranduil did not want to think about, not even in a million years, which by that time he would probably have passed from the world of the living.

Legolas was still following him, even though Thranduil had tried to lose him as he turned corners and twisted into another corridor.

"Your Highness, please listen to what the Prince has to say!"

Thranduil paused abruptly and leaned against the wall, sagging. "What is it?" He sighed, thinking it was Cíldir. He craned his neck and realized it was Legolas who had spoken those words. He had never called his father "Your Highness" and it made him sad, though it was his own fault for making Legolas go for such desperate means to talk to him.

"Look, father, I really meant it when I told you that Gimli and I are leaving. We're planning to leave in a couple of months. I'm truly sorry if it pains you so much. But this is my choice and I think it is the right one," Legolas explained.

Thranduil smiled ruefully. "You're my son, the Prince of Mirkwood, and heir to the throne. Of course it pains me," He said as he straightened himself to leave, but not before adding, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Legolas nodded and Thranduil murmured, "I understand. I need to spend time alone to think all of this over."

His confrontation with his son had shaken him down to his very core and for the rest of the day, the Elven king was in no mood to engage in conversation. He stayed shut like a hermit in his room. How would anyone know of his suffering, what he was feeling? His son, by his own decision, was going to desert him. How could anyone explain to him his terrifying loss?

But after shuffling in his room for hours, Thranduil had come to realize that it had been a very taxing and difficult decision for Legolas, and even more nerve-wracking to be able to confront him and relay the news of his decision. The Elven king decided to forgive Legolas, knowing though that he would one day be gone, forever, unless he himself chose to depart to the Undying Lands as well. But it was not his time yet.

How bizarre that it should be his son that would leave first, and not himself. He was the elder and he the younger. But, Thranduil did not question it further. Legolas had come to this conclusion and there would be no changing it.

After skipping both lunch and dinner, Thranduil grabbed a quick bite from the kitchen before forcing himself to step towards Legolas's room. He knocked and the door opened slowly.

Legolas looked up to see his father, smiled a little, and beckoned him inside.

No one in the castle knew what discussions were ensuing in the Prince's room. It was their secret - at least for now. It wasn't until the crack of dawn that all plans, procedures, and whatnot were conferred over.

Legolas yawned and Thranduil did as well. The Elven king took his son's hand and said, "You should sleep. We have stayed up all night discussing things."

"Father, have you forgiven me? If you have, I'd like to send a letter to Gimli."

"Of course I have. I don't think I'll forgive myself if I had not forgiven you. After we wake up, I'd like to spend as much time with you possible. I don't want to waste any more time before you leave."

Legolas agreed before falling into a deep slumber on his bed. Thranduil too could not stop his eyes from closing and soon fell into a wonderful dream, occupying a chair in the room. The two quietly slept while the rest of the castle continued its usual hustling business.

They slept the world peacefully away, pushing the burdens of reality aside for the time being.


	10. Story Ten: The Final Farewell

 

 

"Whoa there."

Legolas patted his elf horse, urging it to slow down. It snorted and paused and Legolas glanced back. Gimli, sitting quietly on his pony, noticed the staring and waved.

"We almost there?" He asked in his usual gruff voice.

Legolas grinned and replied, "See for yourself."

Ahead was the vast ocean, with its waves gently rolling onto the beach. An elegantly designed ship was docked at a port. A throng of people were waiting for them. As Gimli and Legolas approached, they saw friends and family waiting for them and among them was Thranduil, standing off to the side with his men, waiting patiently.

Legolas and Gimli hopped off their steeds and rushed forward to greet the group. Most of them were dwarves who had all come to see Gimli off. For Legolas, it was simply his father to see him off (if you didn't count the bodyguards).

"Nothing went wrong with your detour, I assume?" The Elven king asked when Legolas approached.

When Legolas had departed from Mirkwood, he originally traveled with his bodyguards to Helms Deep to meet up with Gimli. From there, the bodyguards returned to Mirkwood and Gimli and Legolas continued to the West, where they were now.

Legolas shook his head and reported that everything was well and fine. The trip took longer than was expected because along the way, Gimli had spotted a troll's cave and declared obstinately that they must go investigate, and also because they thought they caught sight of orcs, so the duo took a longer route.

Thranduil stared at Legolas, wanting to absorb his image before he left as a memory. He wanted to always remember his precious son.

The bodyguards slowly crept away, leaving them alone for some father-and-son time.

"Legolas, you have truly grown up," Thranduil said, choosing his words carefully, "As a father, I am so very proud to watch you grow up to what you have become now."

Legolas smiled and took his father's hands. "I am proud to have been your son."

The Elven king felt his eyes well up with tears and he sniffled, rubbing the sleeves of his robe over his eyes to wipe the tears. Legolas chuckled at the sight, thinking that his father seemed very much like a little child. Thranduil noticed and was horrified and cried indignantly, "Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not laughing at you," Legolas said, still chuckling. But with a somber tone, he added, "Thank you so much for all you have taught me, father. I shall never forget the lessons you have taught me since I was a child. You are my dearest father and my wisest mentor."

Of course, this only made Thranduil sob some more, in a way like he was watching some cheesy happy ending movie.

It was awhile before he appeared sober and composed, with the help of lots of pats and hugs and comforting words.

Gimli was beginning to haul their belongings onto the boat and glared at Legolas to help him. Legolas called to him that he would be right there, just a moment. He turned back to his father.

Thranduil said, "I will really, really, really miss you, so very much. Have a safe journey and stay healthy."

Legolas stooped down to pick up his bag full of items. By then, the rest of the company (the bodyguard elves and dwarves) had transported the other necessary things and whatnot onto the ship. Legolas sighed, feeling very sorry to leave Middle-Earth and his father. But it was already decided, and there was no going back.

"Father?"

"What is it?"

"May the stars watch over you and light your path."

Thranduil smiled, somewhat sadly, and replied, "You too, son. May the stars watch over you and light your path _forever_."

With that, Legolas whirled around and boarded the ship that was waiting for him and ready to go. He looked back one last time. Thranduil waved, and then the ship set sail.

Legolas stood at the helm of the ship, newfound determination on his features. Gimli joined him and together, they faced a new adventure and a new future.

Afterwards, Thranduil left and returned home to Mirkwood.

* * *

The story of father and son will end here, for now, and the past will remain engraved forever in their memories.


End file.
